Koliwada (the discovery of India road trip)

Sunday, 13 December 2015

Incredible as it was, the last bit of the lawsuit work had spilled over, and I had to go to notarise my affidavit at 08:30, this morning – a Sunday morning. But once this was done, it was done, and finally, we were able to go to Elephanta. It took us all day and we took one of the last ferries back to Bombay. We were rather tired and hungry when we returned home at about 19:00.

Looking for a GPS device in India proved to be quite the challenge. Yesterday, we had spent a considerable amount of time looking for one on Lamington Road - the most crowded electronics shop streets, but with no success. We had all but given up, and were planning to travel without one, when my father found one shop in Koliwada, a few kilometres from my parents’ house. While we did get our GPS device, I also asked around if the music system, which had stopped working because of about 5 years of disuse, could be fixed. At first they told us it would take about 45 minutes to fix it. However, it took close to 4! The guys kept working on the music system till 23:00!

Koliwada, which literally means, fishermen’s courtyard, is no longer home to the fishing community, but a haven for decrepit buildings, shanties, street food, and small, car garages and parts shops – many of them. The car garages and parts shops are not fancy, and most people there surely do not have university education. Unsophisticated, as the neighbourhood appears, it was one I best avoided while I used to live in Bombay; today I discovered an entirely different facet to it.

The shops usually draw their shutters by 20:30. At 21:00 the guy working on the music system asked me if he could return it by noon tomorrow. So, I told him about our road trip, and that we needed it to be fixed that very night. Of course it was okay if it could not be fixed, and I did not expect him to work any longer than he already had. So the proprietor asked me what I did. Wanting to keep the costs reasonable, I did not want to tell him that I lived in Europe, so I told him that I was a law student in Bangalore. Something changed about his expression, and he decided to work on the music system himself. I asked him if he had studied electronic engineering at university – given that he was the proprietor, and not just a labourer. This caused him to open up in a manner I had not anticipated.

“No, I have learnt everything on the job. Systems have changed so drastically over the years, that even if I had an engineering degree, the university education would have been completely obsolete. But, I grant it to you that university education is very important in life – not just to get a head start in one’s career, but generally in life.”

I asked him what his children did. He had three children. One of them is studying medicine in a university in South India, a daughter who was studying management and another son who was still in high school.

As he belaboured over finding out what was wrong with the music system, his clock struck 10:30. The Koliwada din was now quiet, and feral dogs had the space to laze and stretch on the streets. I had to tell that it was all right if he was unable to fix it, and that we would survive without music.

“My son works very hard at studying medicine. But I always remind him to take at least half an hour off everyday and listen to music. It will help him keep cope with the stress. I even bought him a smartphone so that he can listen to music. It is very important. I know how hard you students work. You are like my son, and I will make sure that your music system works.”

And half an hour later, work it did!

A few years ago, I was unable to see beyond the backdrop of grime, pollution and chaos, and felt that there was nothing I had in common with people there. But beneath that sheath of dust was a facet, which was aspirational, honest, and very human – and humanity we have in common.